


drive you home

by mushroomherb



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Will Graham, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Hurt Hannibal Lecter, Hurt/Comfort, King Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Modern Royalty, Royal Guard Will Graham, Smut, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, is at the end so you might wanna/can just skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomherb/pseuds/mushroomherb
Summary: “Hannibal’s not dead, my darling... He’s just hiding somewhere far away, so far I almost could not reach him. But… I hope, at least, that faraway place is here,” he said, his clasp around the King’s hand firmer over his chest with the words he let out, pleased when it brought a smile to grace the other man’s face, small, but genuine.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	drive you home

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I come bearing the longest one shot I ever written.. honestly this felt very rushed and I don't think it's enough for my perfectionist ass, but my brain's so fried already with my university and the urge to just post this, so here it is.
> 
> yes, in this story Hannibal had a one-night stand with Bedelia and accidentally had Abigail, they did not marry though despite the public's backlash and demand since Hannibal's a prince and all, they also have a good relationship with each other. and we can all just pretend that it's alright lol, the people accepted that after so many years. however, both Bedelia and Abigail chose to live in their private estate and not in the palace, so that would explain the scarce presence of Abigail in this story.
> 
> this is actually just a porn without plot at first, but I felt it too empty so I wrote some *few* additions for the plot and I did not even realise it had reached past 6k lol. I guess it still is not that long compared to some amazing long stories out there, but I *e x h a u s t e d* writing this haha.
> 
> also I want to apologise if there are a lot of things I am writing wrong, like the title of the royals, or how the royal family actually works, or how the laws and along those lines. I am very sorry once again, I hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> P.S.: they will be kinda OC in this

Some months ago he met him for the first time. Thunder rumbled about when sky was dark and cried endlessly as they lowered three bodies six feet under. Prince– King Lecter stood just mere centimetres away, arms around both Lady Bedelia and tighter around Princess Abigail, who was clinging onto him with cold arms and trembling fingers. Short little sobs that went through Will’s ears were so _painful_ to hear.

An umbrella shielding them against the harsh pour, the King’s and his daughter’s held by his personal guard a foot behind. All of them wore all black, with an exception of King Lecter’s coat being a slightly-lighter shade of grey.

Will had a good amount of headline news showing the King’s face throughout the past few days. Both the late and the present King. Looking at him in real life now, his empathy could do nothing but feel the utter despair of the unfair, unfair quandary. Dark eyes as hollow as ravens, gaunt and _exhausted_ and Will couldn’t imagine of the things whispered about in the King’s head, the storm of nightmares rolling around in the dead of night.

_Royal Family Murdered._

A man of utmost stoicism infiltrated the royal family’s vacation house late in the night, the weekend before. With all three occupants sound asleep, _Mother, Father, Beloved Sister_ , it was not a difficult thing for the killer to stab and smash, smash and strangle, strangle and punch. Though causes of death were not all those aforementioned.

 _Exsanguination_.

They died of exsanguination. Bodies laid out on the floor like they worth nothing, as if they were not the _King_ and the _Queen_ and the _Princess_ , large pools of blood saturating light hair and light-coloured garments, faces mangled and marred.

Police caught the killer not long after, since he didn’t even try to run away, a man of darker complexion and few words. A psychopath. In cold blood he did all of that, not a slip of guilt got out of his mouth. Iron ball in his hand dripping with red, traces of _people_ all over.

The Lady Bedelia and Princess Abigail were still at their home state, then-Prince Hannibal wasn’t there either with them when the murders happened –called upon an emergency procedure in the hospital he worked at, hoped to be welcomed with Princess Mischa Lecter’s warm smile and big hug after long hours of shift. And instead, he came home to his family butchered, massacred. Stared at the bodies with heart stopping every few seconds. Said heart was nothing but made a hollow gape in only a matter of minutes.

And then–

 _Prince Hannibal Fought the Killer._ Headline news had said.

He had waited inside the house as he realised the Prince wasn’t there, calmly sitting in the living room before pouncing, catching the Prince off-guard as he stumbled over, bringing the royal down with him, one knee as a hold down, stabbed a knife he had been spinning with his fingers onto Prince Hannibal’s thigh. Iron ball swung from his other hand.

 _Crack_. Hit a row of back bones, not enough to _shatter_. No sound as the Prince bumped his head hard against the man, the hold on his body loosened and he got up, away to a corner of the room where he would be able to see the attacker under the dim moonlight, allowed himself a breather, and some few seconds to thank whoever was up there that Bedelia and his little girl went there later than scheduled.

Swinging of iron and the glint of dark eyes were the only thing he could remember, the punch to both his stomach and chest was not what he expected –a body moved towards him fast, almost bringing him down again before he threw back a relentless train of hard punches at the man –one to his throat, one to his chest, the other to his abdomen.

That did something, not much, but his attacker stumbled back. But he stood up fast too, stoic face as he ran, ducked down to get away from the Prince’s defending movements, successful in slamming the royal on top of a desk, wrapping his hands around his neck.

 _Choke, asphyxiate, die_.

_Something black and round far above, closer to his face each second it moved._

Was all what the Prince remembered.

_But– no._

_Can’t. Abigail needs him. The nation needs him_.

And so the Prince gritted his teeth, saw the shine of a pen from his peripheral. With the strength that was left in him, he reached for it _fast_ , before his attacker comprehend of what was about to happen, stabbed the pen with force it brought out a scream from the attacker. Iron against mahogany, right beside the Prince’s temple.

Prince Hannibal walked behind the desk then, pushing an emergency button quietly as he looked over the attacker, crouched down with a hand covering the wound Hannibal had inflicted, red dripping down because he was stupid enough to pull out the only thing that kept him from bleeding too much. But, a creature of many lives, he was, for he had gotten up again, no hesitation as he strode forwards, picked up his bloodied weapon from the desk. The Prince received a barrage of attacks at him, ducked down every time the iron neared his sight, punched back once or twice, thrice if the elbow against his attacker’s head was counted.

And then they came.

Doors opened with a slam, men with formal attire –sans the ungodly hour– went in, the Prince’s ears rang as a gun cocked, the attacker went down, tackled swiftly that he could not even show the grimace on his face from being shot in the arm. Some other of the men brought Prince Hannibal to safety. Some other only gaped and stared when they reached the living room.

Those were what the news said, at least.

For Will, the offer came about a day after the incident. Danish government had asked for additional members of the royal guard, for the King, especially, in an unusually large amount. He had wondered, but accepted nonetheless, went through a swift but thorough background check before he was actually in the addition. It all made sense by the time the news broke out.

He had been there when then-Prince Hannibal was escorted out of his hospital room, a day after, Princess Abigail wouldn’t let go of her hold on her father, wounds cleaned up and tended by.

He was there when the new King came back home only after the third day gone by, everything wiped off clean, not even a trace of blood remained –except those in his head, provided information for the investigation to begin.

He had been there when the guards and the staffs and the everyone bowed down to him, chants of _long may you reign, King Hannibal,_ echoed in the palace walls, swept away in the wind.

He had been there when Prince Robert Lecter slapped a tear-stained King, hugged him just a second after, whispered words of _you are a King, you are the King now, stand up, don’t cry, I will be here every step of the way_.

Will had felt hot substance pooling in his eyes.

Will was _here_ also, now, when undertakers finished up the grounds, hearts wrenched dry, eyes blinked with unbroken waterfalls, the King silent and _empty_. Stayed under the pouring rain until _Aunt_ Murasaki held both the King and the Princess with her dainty, soothing hands.

He had been there, a witness to artificial smiles over the King’s angular face when the higher-ups paid their respects.

And when it was finally quiet, some long minutes gone by, they escorted the King back to the car, Will opened a door for him, a quiet _thank you_ from the King as he went inside, Princess Abigail and _Uncle_ Lecter followed shortly, their hold not loosening even for a second.

Will was there, front seat with the royal driver, when the glistening of dark eyes turned into an unstoppable source of water along the journey home. It stopped only when the King readied himself to go out, same calm expression on his face for his people as if nothing had happened at all.

\---

Five months gone by into Will’s contract when the King _finally_ talked to him, few words of _could you come to my office later after supper?_

He had been stationed, usually, few doors down from where the King was, here and there but never really _around_ the King that much. Unlike his personal guard, Matthew Brown.

Will had of course obeyed, no questions as to why it seemed like the King was only asking for him. No questions as he went inside the office, King Hannibal wrote something with his cursive adorning the paper, head down that it was almost difficult to search for his face. Will stayed silent a few feet from the desk. Not wanting to interrupt anything the King was so focused on.

“Come closer, will you?” he heard, finally, the King did not even raise his head. And so Will did. Some fear rushed through his body for a mistake he might have done. The fact that there were no one else besides him and the King did not help either.

It also did not help when the familiar shape of his head raised, shifting dark gaze from whatever flowy paragraph he was writing, right to Will’s confused one, a small smile (fake and only for the world to not be worried –somehow Will longed to see were those certain muscles worked _genuinely_ ) appeared.

“William, is your name?” the King asked.

A nod to confirm, “Yes, Your Majesty. Only Will is alright.”

Only then that the King looked away, humming and reaching down for the drawer. A file on his hands a second later. Zero letters on the cover, blank, on the King's face as well. Will could almost see clearly when the gears in the King’s head turned.

“Your Majesty?” he asked, just because he was afraid of the silence that followed.

That snapped the King out of his stupor.

“Apologies,” he said, pushing the file until it almost fell down the side of the desk, Will caught it immediately.

“I need your help,” the King said again. More of an _order_ rather than a request. Of course, he was _the King_ , Will signed a contract to follow each word spoken out by him.

The younger man looked up, eyes going back and forth from the file to the King, unsure lacing his every puff of air. King Hannibal made a gesture for him to open the file, _read it_ , _understand it_.

It contained a detailed information of _someone_. And Will’s eyebrows furrowed in shock when the picture on the top right corner finally registered in his brain, swallowing a horrified gasp as he read and read. One page turned into two, into three, into four, more and more things that shouldn’t be in the same file with _this_ particular person’s name.

“Evidences I found regarding my own personal guard, I’m still not sure if everything in there is true, people might want to trick me. I worked on that by myself, so the possibility of me being bias is pretty high. And,” a pause, continued after a breath, “I cannot trust this to anyone but you.”

Will stared at him in disbelief, documents of embezzlement, receipts that connected him to so many leaked hole, providing information for people who shouldn’t know, contacts with people who had absolutely no clearings for insider information.

Linked together, Will realised –with a nasty amount of nausea coiling in his belly for how appalling all of this was–, it all came to the royal family murder some months ago.

The King’s personal guard… The person he trusted most with his life…

“I am afraid Matthew Brown had misused my trust of him for… many years now. Again, I am still unsure. But, the fact that no one besides my family knew where our vacation house was, nobody but them and some small number of trusted staffs and guards...”

And when Will thought about it, then, yes. _Yes_. It had been a secret to public and even the general member of the royal staffs, the whereabouts of the Lecter’s vacation house was never disclosed until the murder happened. So that meant, someone from inside, someone who had had such information…

 _Matthew Brown had had contact with Tobias Budge_.

“Would you be willing to help me?”

_Would he be willing–?_

“Yes, yes, Your Majesty.”

It was just an utterly unforgivable act if the evidences were right.

\---

There was one single question at the back of his mind, though. All night he spent staring blankly at the ceiling, thoughts running around with no direction in his mind. _Why, why, why,_ probably dominated the most.

The next morning when he woke up, probably went to sleep for only half an hour or two, it was to a series of knocking on his door.

Will jolted up.

 _Four in the morning_.

_Might it be…?_

Stealthily he made his way closer to the door, gun behind his back.

When his sweaty hand reached upon a handle, ready to barrage and attack, a voice he had come to be familiar with shocked him more.

“It’s Hannibal, Will.”

 _Hannibal_.

Not _King_.

Not _King Lecter._

It was _Hannibal_.

With a relived sigh he opened his door. The King was actually there, not even changed out of his formal attire from earlier in the night. It was obvious he had not been sleeping one bit.

“Your Majesty…?”

“Apologies for interrupting your slumber. But I have been up all night, a mistake to have two cups of coffee a few hours ago and now I am unable to fall asleep even for a second,” pause, a breather, “from now on you are to be my own personal guard. Well, the second one, no, the first, actually. But, uh, Matthew Brown will never know, so it looks like I am assigning two personal guards for me, but actually only you I trust, since we can’t let him know we are secretly investigating him. Alright, no questions, yes?” he said, all that with a voice so low Will was sure if not for his alertness from earlier he wouldn’t catch a whole lot of what the King rambled about.

A cocked eyebrow, confusion all over Will’s body, but he nodded, “Yes...? Your Majesty…?”

“Good. Work for me starting tomorrow,” finished, turned around and walked away in the dark hallway, steps so silent it was almost impossible for Will to believe any of what just happened was not part of his dream.

And why did he found a sleep deprived, high on caffeine King to be a little _adorable_?

 _Fuck_. Not the time, not the place, _focus_.

Oh right, Will also forgot the question whirring about in his head.

\---

Almost a week had passed after the King himself went down to the guards’ chambers only to let Will know of his _upgrade_ in status. He had then been literally working for the King, all hours of the day since then, excluding his sleeping schedule. And all those days, right beside him was _the_ Matthew Brown. Secretly being investigated by him and the King, he wasn’t sure if the other guard had some tiny suspicion, but he hoped he didn’t, hoped he stayed oblivious for obvious reasons.

Matthew was rather quiet, with a dazzling smile only once or twice he witnessed. He knew those smiles were of sycophantic origin though. To trick and _trick_ , make use of the King’s long-time trust for him. What did he get from that? Money? A higher position in court? Sick, sick human being.

The King had wakened up early morning again that Saturday, by this time Will had noticed some things he hadn’t before. King Hannibal was an early riser, more so on the weekends. He would go to the palace’s garden right after a morning tea, bring with him a blank book of whatever material and piece of charcoal. Sketch, draw, sometimes paint if he was in the mood to get oil on his fingers early in the morning. Some other times when Princess Abigail visited, they ventured far to ride, until it was considered late for breakfast, both busy with whatever they talked about, black horses by their sides.

He would do that, only with Matthew before. Just the both of them –the three of them. And Will thought it was unbelievably stupid for him to think that he and his Abigail would be safe, left alone with a man he was suspicious of for abetting a psychopath in his family’s murder.

But. As calm as the King was, _he wouldn’t kill me now, not now, not shortly after… might want to marinate me first,_ all he ever said.

And so Will was more than glad when he became the second person following the King around early in the morning. Exchanged few words with the other guard, King Hannibal often talked to him more while he sketched. More often that he did with Matthew. Probably wary, or that was how it had just been between them. He hadn’t had the experience to spend time with the Princess yet.

They reached the small lake halfway, the King stopped Matthew a few meters back, with excuses of _leave me alone for a bit, the two of you overwhelmed me enough,_ and Matthew had only nodded. The King did not look that worried either if his action might instigate a growing suspicion in the guard's mind. Supposedly they were far enough, far enough for the both of them to have a talk with no one snooping around.

“Why me, Your Majesty?” the question left before Will could stop it, before he could, at least, use a more proper phrase. But the question, _that_ question, had made itself home in his brain for way too long.

King Hannibal halted for about a second before sitting fully on a bench beside the lake, one leg crossed over the other, sketchpad and charcoal perched on his knee, a depiction of utter grace.

“Forgive me and spare my life, My King. But why me? You never even once, engaged in a conversation with me before, never even glanced at my direction, never knew me. What if I was just another _him_? What if I made way into the palace to be the one to stick a knife through your heart? How could you say I am the only one you are able to trust?”

The King did not even flinch. But his eyes narrowed and a sigh he let out, refusing to look away from the still-water in front of him. Poised and calm, _tranquil_.

It damn neared _frustrating_ , sometimes, how hard it was to shake away the King’s imperturbability.

“Hmm. Somebody needs to keep his sharp eyes checked, I think.”

_Excuse me? What kind of an answer is that?_

“Pardon me, Your Majesty?”

“Perhaps I am not as heedless as you perceived me to be, Will.”

 _Gobsmacked_. Gobsmacked probably did not even cut how Will was made to feel.

_What? So what the hell does that even mean?_

“Moreover, five-month period is not a short amount of time in my book, William.”

Someday, somewhere in the future, Will _would_ write a book on how to understand King Hannibal’s cryptic way of talking.

\---

Their affair, however, only started when it all fell down for the King, crumbling like pieces of puzzle in the wind, almost a year after King Hannibal's proposition.

Evidences of Matthew’s involvement with the murders turned out to be true, spot on. Provided information for Tobias Budge about the family’s vacation house, burner phone of many kinds found stashed between the walls of the palace, high treason of the highest level. King Hannibal caught him giving away more secret information to news outlets, people with money and malice intentions, the higher-ups who disagreed greatly with the King, personal vendettas of those being banned from their own nation after a crime they did.

No bloodshed as the King stepped into Matthew’s line of sight, Will behind him. Green eyes that hold so much knowledge of the King widened, mouth halting when it formed the word _–side_. He finished the call with a click of defeat, King Hannibal took two steps closer.

“Tell me you didn’t actually do it,” the King said, his voice right above a whisper. Will’s gaze never strayed away from him, wariness of the other guard he put in the corners of his eyes.

Despite everything, despite the damning evidences, despite the call logs that said more than everything. He still hoped it wasn’t his guard. Still hoped that Matthew would say he didn’t do it.

Matthew didn’t dare look up, head bowed low. But he did dare to look _guilty_.

“Everything is true, My King.”

Will caught the lone tear streams down the King’s face, just that one, before he looked away from his guard, to his left side that gave Will a clear view of his face.

One look, and Will understood what he needed to do.

Matthew Brown did not even try to beg for the King’s forgiveness as Will dragged him away.

\---

He found Hannibal sitting on the same bench alongside the lake came three mornings. On the third day he found him with eyes shut, calm as the passing wind, still as the waters, almost like he didn’t breathe. No charcoal in his hands, no dirty fingers he used to smudge out his drawings with. Somehow the King was always there first no matter how early Will tried to wake up.

It was maddening. The flits of images of the King’s true self, that Will had had the chances to glance upon some of the times, buried down again as the days passed, thawing heart returned to ice.

Like that too for three days, until later in the night, when all had retired for rest and he was the only one left with the King.

Came in while the King stood still in front of a painting of the royal family. Will noticed the heaving of chest before it went away just as quickly, King Hannibal turned around. Seemed a little shocked to find someone other than himself there, albeit still looking somewhat stoic.

“Come for a confession of crimes too?” the King asked. Will scoffed under his breath. _Hannibal Lecter_ had been _ruined_ too much.

“Your Majesty,” Will tried.

Hannibal looked at him sharply, “Who?”

Will winced at the bitterness.

“No Majesty is made fool for someone over years and years of lies,” Hannibal rasped out. The cold melting away into a layer of desolation, of the rose thorns prickling every inch of his skin.

The younger man took a step closer, as the King’s mask just as quickly went back to place. Wanted nothing more but to tear his pains away, wanted nothing but to veil his King’s withering eyes from the sight of the cold, dark world.

“My apologies, that wasn’t appropriate for me to say. Why aren’t you resting, Will? Perhaps a trouble with sleep? Do you need to– “

Cut short, Will realised only when the King tear his gaze away, downwards, to his hand being enveloped by Will’s own.

He really shouldn’t do this. He wasn’t _allowed_ to do _this_. Should pull his unworthy hands away and went to his knees to beg forgiveness, should run away with shame overcoming his every sense. Should put his letter of resignation come morning and die for shamefully _touching_ his King.

He didn’t.

Sure fingers tightened around the King’s larger hand, took with him some disrespectful amount of time to _look_ and _stare_ , delineate every vein visible under the beautiful shade of skin. How long now had he been imagining this skin under his touch? How many hours had he spent picturing how he’d be able to get the right colour with the limited palette in his brain?

How was he _able_ to continue holding the King _this_ way?

No idea, what kind of bravery did he have to do this, he did not know. He did not know the root of courage that sprung out of him as he stepped nearer, the King’s eyes following each of his movement: little to no hesitation before a hand raised up to rest over the King’s jaw, thumb rubbing smoothly to _soothe_ , to _shield_ , to _shelter_ the broken King.

And with a soft voice Will said, “You can trust me, Your Majesty,” no straying away from Hannibal’s gaze, a promise to be _there_ entangling with each word he said.

The King’s own elegant fingers moved hesitantly, wrapping back around his guard’s, uncertain as he leaned forwards, but he did rest a heavy head against the slightly-shorter man, letting out an even heavier sigh that Will felt too much like his own. He let his King some time at peace, let his King take as much exuberance from him, take his soul away, if he so pleased. So long as his heart kept thawing, so long as Will could see the scarce smile on his face, so long as his lips were still red.

Seconds, minutes of undisturbed serenity passed by before Will tilted his head up, the King’s silent gasp he noticed. Unsure, afraid eyes searching, ensuring, that what he did was acceptable, was _accepted_. Ever the gentleman that he was, Will did not know how someone could ever break this man's faith.

And so he reached for a touch of certainty, sweet little words made for whisper, and the air between them changed. Tentative, slightly-hesitant hands kept reaching up, noses brushed, lips brushing against each other. Just a touch, once, twice, thrice, a test, a trial. Until it became too much and Will succumbed, lips closing in and against Hannibal’s shortly afterwards.

He was welcomed with a pair of wavering warmth right away, left hand seated on the crook of his King’s neck, kept kissing and kissing the lips he had spent time outrageously imagining about, soft tufts of blond hair tickled his knuckles. Will smiled between panting breath as he felt large hands around his sides, hovering for quite some time before they relented, soft caress that reached through the deepest part of his heart.

Tell-tale of needing air was there a minute after. Pulling away, a smile made its way to Will’s face when he caught sight of Hannibal chasing him, eyes shut close before they opened again with the loveliest twinkle he had never seen before.

It was alright, right? To let the King clutch onto him? This was just a clutch for reality, right?

“I’m not sure if this is okay,” the King said, raspy and full of uncertainty, an unsure smile gracing his face.

And _oh._

Oh Will was _fucked_ , _doomed_. He had read it all wrong. Had lost his brain somewhere between wanting to keep a calming hand over the King’s and stupidly taking his bet.

“Should I– should I stop?” and yet he still hoped they wouldn’t stop, touch retracting from olive skin, trembling in the night with _shame_ clouding his every nerve.

“What would the people say, when they took notice of my affection towards my own guard?”

If before wasn’t enough of a rejection, this _was_.

Eyelids blinking rapidly, Will pulled back, both his arms and his heart and his utter stupidity for believing the King wanted the same. A pinnacle of foolishness.

“I-I, I’m sorry, forgive me. I should- I should g– “

What was he saying? What was he thinking again? The King did not want the same, wasn’t it? So why was he felt himself being pulled into a warm embrace again, warm arms and warm lips engulfed him with fervent?

“W-wait, wait, Your Majesty– are you sure?” he asked, he had to, he _had_ to. Will didn’t even realise his eyebrows had furrowed so deep, not until the King’s forefinger reached up and swept it away, a fond smile on his face. There was some small trace of uncertainty in his dark eyes, lurking underneath, but it wavered away slowly as his soft brush of knuckles went for Will’s cheek.

“Should we really stop, then?” the King asked back, a teasing tone lilting in his voice.

Will shook his head lightly, palms alight atop the King’s chest, going back with _want_ for that remaining taste of wine from King Hannibal’s lips.

And yes, no, Will _never_ wanted to stop.

( _They never did either._ )

\---

Nobody said a word when King Hannibal woke up late for the first ever time in all his life. Nobody said a word when the King's personal guard came out of the King's bedroom early in the morning, face flushed and hair a mess of tangled curls.

\---

He didn’t mean to read it, didn’t mean to sneak around, had no intention to ever snoop about the things he had no clearance of. But the letter just sat there, opened and creased with drops of water on the lower half, he refused to acknowledge out loud what those drops were. Not the reason, at least.

Many of them were resignation letters sent in that morning only. Of the staffs and the people afraid to stay in the palace any longer, for fear of another Matthew Brown and Tobias Budge. Some others were lists of prime ministers, influential businessmen found out to be working with Matthew Brown, the aforementioned people he had sold information to, the people the late King had banned from stepping inside the country for their unforgivable crimes, all with grudge so deep and _hideous_ they wanted to _wipe out_ the entire royal family.

The people he thought he could trust, the people his father _had_ trusted. Many turned out to be the same kind of monster.

And the King– The King, he... Will took a double take before blinking once and twice rapidly to make himself believe of the sight in front of him.

Hunched over the coffee table was the King, suit jacket draped over the chaise lounge with no care heeded for it, grey sleeves rolled up to just right before the crook of his arms, still neat, despite his predicament. Though his hair and pose said the very opposite.

Will walked briskly closer, nearer, relaxing his stature a bit as to not give the other man a scare. That proved to be fruitless, however, because ash-blond head looked up and back straight towards him, tired and bloodshot eyes evident. Should have known the sense of this particular man was way over the roof.

“I thought I told you to take the day off, Will.”

He did, he told Will to rest for one day, be with his family and the dogs, for it had been a strenuous month for him, for them both. But Abigail called, with worry laced in every words she sputtered out, sobs once or twice, he just couldn’t not go to the palace.

And with that, the King stood up, away and far to the corner of the room before Will could even reach him. His body stopped where Will expected him to.

A large canvas hung on the wall, protected firmly with gold rim surrounding, a perfect image of joy staring back at the King, a breath-taking rendition by said King himself. Will’s heart clenched in pain when he caught the look it made on the King’s sharp features.

Could not help, but he followed the slightly-taller man, stood close beside him with eyes trained on the same painting. Attention straight to the late Princess, timidly smiling with her dimples showing. He had an impossible hope to be able to be honoured with the chance of being the recipient of that smile.

And, truthfully, until now, though he had only seen those smiles on pictures and sketches from deft hands, he still did not know how the King had pictured it so perfectly.

“Don’t you have family to attend to?” Will heard again, head whipping to the side to face his King fully.

“The Princess called me, Your Majest– “

“Just my name, please, Will.”

A small smile at that, Will brought his hand up to rest comfortably on the crook of strong arm.

“Hannibal–”

“Hannibal’s dead. My other name, please.”

Could not help again but to chuckle. There was a sense of childishness whenever the young King was like this and Will _loved_ every second of it.

He turned Hannibal around to face him back, rested a hand atop his broad shoulder, the other one grazing over a high cheekbone, trying to soothe some stiffness away, if he could. And then gently, softly, as if he was handling a sick puppy and not a nation’s King, dragged his touch down, grabbing Hannibal’s veiny hand in his own to be brought upon his chest, right where it pumped blood to and fro his body.

Hannibal looked up at him then, beautiful sea of brown slightly dulled with a mountain of sorrow and Will did not like that one bit.

“Hannibal’s not dead, my darling... He’s just hiding somewhere far away, so far I almost could not reach him. But… I hope, at least, that faraway place is here,” he said, his clasp around the King’s hand firmer over his chest with the words he let out, pleased when it brought a smile to grace the other man’s face, small, but genuine.

Hannibal’s tired eyes shut close as he leaned forwards, forehead took place upon Will’s right shoulder, both arms wrapped around his bodyguard’s frame, breathing slowly getting relaxed. It was an actual achievement when Will could, at the very least, tone down the King’s flare of sufferings even only for a bit.

They let the silence stretch for some time, content to just share the same rhythm of continuous cycle of inhale and exhale. Will gently rubbed his hands up and down a firm back, closing his eyes as he rocked Hannibal back and forth slowly in his arms.

When they parted, to Hannibal’s dismay, Will only smiled at him and silently brought the King along with him, towards the lounge he sat on before. Plopping down with a soft thud, he gestured for Hannibal to come closer, patting his lap in slight excitement.

Hannibal obeyed easily.

Arranged his body so it could fit, long legs folded by the knees as he laid his head on top of Will’s thighs, angular face away from his bodyguard’s body.

There was a soft hum when he had finally made himself comfortable. Will’s fingers carding through soft, ashy hair without any intention to stop.

Leaning forward a little, he noticed Hannibal’s eyes had closed again, knew he was still awake, but content, very, that it looked like he had fallen into a deep slumber.

Like this, there were a lot of things he wanted to say, a lot of things he wanted Hannibal to know, now that he was not disgustingly busy in his head with politics and of people leaving him alone. Some fought to be spoken out, some took a backseat and let Will himself decide.

At last, he proceeded with, “I am here, Hannibal. Don’t be scared, I’m here.”

He felt it when Hannibal fluttered his eyes open, light-coloured lashes must be tickling his skin were he not wearing a pair of expensive trousers. Felt it when breathings shifted to a slightly faster melody. Felt it when a talented hand reached up to grasp his own calloused one, took it for himself, brought Will’s hand down for it to be wrapped around his side, tight, fist resting over Hannibal’s chest –like he used to try to envelope himself in Mother’s arms for comfort when he was a little prince himself, make a danger-shielding blanket out of Will’s embrace.

“But I am. I’m very scared, William.”

Will knew this. Knew with every shuddering breath he took that it frightened Hannibal’s entire core, though still an iron wall on the outside. But he knew, with everything that had happened that it was not even a trauma anymore. Was something more, far more blood-curdling.

Hannibal continued before Will formed the right sentence to soothe his fear.

“Everything except you, I am scared of. Nobody except you, I can trust again. I’m not– I don’t–it is too much, already. I am only a man, William.”

Dark eyes shutting off again, brimming with unshed tears as Hannibal tried to keep the pair from overflowing. Will leaned his chin on the King’s shoulder, there was nothing he could say, nothing but his embrace getting tighter, if only to try share Hannibal’s pain with him.

It was too much, indeed. So much for just one man. Lost an entire family to a crazed killer? The people he trusted turned out to be much lesser human beings that they claimed to be? Said killer was still in prison and not yet dead?

Dear God, let him rest.

“The Princess would be mad if those words get to her,” Will said, and a breath of relief when Hannibal chuckled heartily after a second of hesitation.

“Please don’t tell Abigail, a horrible father I am if I do not trust my own daughter,” that brought out a genuine set of chuckles from the both of them, Will’s died down a bit later as he focused his eyes again to gaze at Hannibal, thumb rubbing small circles over the darker skin.

“Let me drive you home, Hannibal?”

Hannibal stiffened at that, Will wasn’t sure why, and he was about to apologise and kiss the stiffness away when the man answered, forlorn in his eyes.

“What home? I have none.”

 _Oh, Hannibal._ Couldn’t help but to frown, Hannibal’s pain was as deep as a stake impaled in his chest with greatest force possible. Forget through the roof, it was up in the sky with nothing for him to hold on to.

He could only hope his answer was not _wrong_.

“Mine, Hannibal. Come on, I’ll drive you _home_.”

The look that he got when Hannibal looked up, said more than any sentence could.

\---

The dogs greeted them with wagging tails and joyful smiles all over, Hannibal patted little snouts one by one as he crouched down, waiting for Will to be done with the security measures around his house. Didn’t really need any, since Will lived pretty far from, practically, anywhere. But just to be sure and safe.

He heard the door clicked open as Winston begged for scratches behind his ears, sure footsteps padding in the dark hallway, a second later Will had followed suit, crouched low for some daily dose of serotonin.

“I’ll make some tea while you wait upstairs?” he asked, kissing Hannibal’s cheek after they stood up, shedding coats to be hanged on the entranceway.

Hannibal nodded and went up, Will smiled to himself watching his ever-so-poised figure slowly disappeared in the dim of night.

Thoughts pondered about in his mind as he took care of the tea –Hannibal’s pure Ceylon, his was a normal green tea, all in the shape of environment-friendly bag of loose tea leaves.

Ah, about the thoughts. Hannibal had been there a lot of times, despite the somewhat difficult security procedures, he had always found the time, the chance. A lot of times as well had he made so many memories in the small house, getting to know Alana and Margot, showcasing his cooking skills to Jack and Bella Crawford, spent nights with Will in utter serenity with limbs tangled about on his rather small bed, bringing Abigail over. Will only hoped what he said earlier went through, that he hoped to God his home was _Hannibal’s_ as well, _fully_.

The kettle whistled, a gift from the King himself, Will poured water to both clear mugs he had prepared, colour showing quickly for Hannibal’s tea. With fast strides he went up and noticed Hannibal had not changed out of his dress shirt and trousers. Beautiful body plopped down on Will’s bed just like that, face down, breathing so soft and relaxed. Will smiled tightly, it was _very_ rare that he saw Hannibal like that, with no thoughts in his head but _sleep_ , _relax_.

He shook Hannibal’s shoulder lightly, a little guilt flashed of the thought that he woke the King up, though it turned Hannibal wasn’t asleep.

“I’m not in slumber, I am only taking your scent from this pillow as much as I can,” he said, voice obviously awake, turning over to look at his guard, who had a smile so wide he couldn’t help but to do the same.

Will handed him his tea, bestowed a tender kiss on Hannibal’s forehead, before placing his mug on the nightstand while he proceeded to change his clothes. Suits and tuxedos were definitely not his biggest forte.

“Do you mean it?” Hannibal asked suddenly, sipping his tea gently.

Will shrugged out of his crisp, white shirt and turned around to look at the King perched on his bed. _A King. On his bed._

Sighing, a fond exasperation made its way to Will’s face as he said, “What do you think, huh? Of course I meant it, Hannibal. I mean everything I told you,” pyjamas forgotten as he walked closer to the source of his everyday-joy.

“This house, however small it is, is yours as much as it is mine,” he continued, taking the Ceylon tea from Hannibal’s hand to put it beside his on the nightstand.

Sitting on the side of the bed, facing fully at the older man, he took both his hands and brought it close to his lips, peppering kisses for the knuckles, “You’re home, my darling, you’re _home_.”

Hannibal’s smile was all it took for Will to relent, kissing him with so many unsaid things he wanted to tell him, properly and earnestly now, with everything he was. He did not even realise when or how he ended up on Hannibal’s lap, lost in the King’s soft gasps and even softer touches as they stopped only once for some air.

“Hmm. I like this plan already. This is the end goal since earlier, hm? Distract me from my kingly duties?” Hannibal asked, pulling away slightly, Will could only grin, forehead and nose brushed against his love’s.

“Not my main goal, but–mmh– ye– I– “

Was cut off with another kiss, he heard _I’m not complaining_ in between bated breath, and if it was possible, Hannibal brought him closer, arms wrapped around him possessively.

“Is this not one of your many kingly duties, Your Majesty? Bring _happiness_ and _joy_ to each of your folk?”

Will felt a low rumble of chuckle, along with a warning growl as he threaded kisses down Hannibal’s neck, opening his shirt by the buttons one by one as he went lower, lower to his collarbones and over this area he liked most, he sucked lightly. The wherewithal was there to paint his love’s skin purple, to bite and suck and lick the skin there until it drew out delicious groans from Hannibal. But Hannibal was still a King, his appearance sometimes needed so sudden and he wouldn’t want to risk it.

He got the shirt off a second later, belt unbuckled, zipper of his own trousers from earlier being opened by deft fingers, came off both pairs of trousers next in rushing movements. Rustling of garments as he pushed Hannibal down to lay on his back, kissing him on his lips fervently, savouring every little taste he could find from Hannibal’s lips. Going down again after a moment, chest with just the right amount of hair became his focus of attention, abdomen too, hips moving without his brain even noticing. Did not stop, both his hips and his mouth doing whatever it was sinful things he loved doing, until the sight of Hannibal’s undergarment was right before his eyes.

Will kissed around his navel, eliciting small moans from the King as said undergarment was being dragged down impatiently, _off_ , in a matter of rushed seconds. He was quick to envelop Hannibal with warmth, felt large palm and elegant fingers found their home by gripping his head gently, that was enough of a motivation to go further –bobbing up and down between a pair of toned thighs, sweet sinful kisses along the shaft when he pulled back for some needed oxygen, both hands paid attention to Hannibal’s other body parts.

His King let out a small humming appreciation as he laved over the head, lapping at the droplets of clear white started staining the tip, fingers gently digging onto his hair, kept his mouth there until he pushed up, smiling mischievously when he realised Hannibal stared at him with eyes as dark as the night sky, lips apart.

Nothing more he wanted to do but to kiss those lips, grinding down with Hannibal between his buttocks all the while, Hannibal’s hands all over him, urging, soothing, full of warmth.

He said he wouldn’t risk having Hannibal painted with purple over his neck, but the rule was different when it came to his chest.

And so Will went with it, ravishing every inch of skin he could reach with his lips and teeth, low moans he received from his love as he reached with his hand down to stroke the almost-forgotten length, thumbing the tip when his fingers reached the head, gripping it harder when he sucked marks onto honey-coloured skin. It didn’t surprise him when Hannibal put a warning hand over his hip.

“You’re going to make me come if you keep doing that,” Hannibal whispered.

A smile tugged on his lips, Will would have no problem with just doing what he was doing all night, there was not a problem were Hannibal the only one to _use_ him that night, it was all what he wanted anyway, shatter off some tension from his King, let himself be _used_ by said King however he wanted to.

But, as he responded, “Yeah? Why don’t you, then?”

Hannibal grinned in return, pulling his face up and kissed him with utter fervour, those large hands came back to his buttocks, a whisper of, “Wanna come inside you,” Will had no problem with that as well.

And so he could only kiss Hannibal back, chuckling lightly with a breathy moan when he felt nimble fingers breached him, not one but two, Hannibal used his own precome to push inside swiftly.

“Mmm… naughty, naughty King.”

“What are you, then, if I am naughty, hm, mischievous boy?”

“That I am, that I am,” breathless, toes curled when Hannibal did not stop preparing him, hips started rocking up gently.

Will shuddered when the fingers pulled out, it was replaced with a thicker presence, mightier. His own fretful movements stilled for a second when Hannibal put a hand over his girth, keeping it laving on Will’s rim, not intruding inside, teasing, almost making the younger man groan in frustration before he took it upon himself, grinding down for that friction again and again.

“You just lay back, relax, let me do it,” he said, he did not believe he sounded comprehensible, but Hannibal’s smile said otherwise, Hannibal’s _body_ said otherwise.

Kissing him, Will put both hands on his headboard, face down to gaze at his love as he tried his best not to whimper and moan so loud, reminding himself that it was _the_ _King_ beneath him, it was _the King_ that was gasping and smiling sweetly every time he teased his hole to envelop him fully inside, that there were security outside, all around the perimeter of his house.

He laughed as he slowed down, brought himself down to brush his nose against Hannibal’s, sweaty hands trembled in the dark to reach for the first nightstand drawer, squeezed out enough amount from the purple bottle, reached back to stroke Hannibal’s entire length until it was slick.

His King sighed as he positioned himself firmly atop, talented fingers of many skills grazed his cheek with so much love Will was sure it deepened in colour.

“They won’t care, sweetheart, be as loud as you are comfortable,” Hannibal said, voice so low on the register that it was enough to play with the knot coiling around inside Will. He kissed his love again as he adjusted the length to finally be sheathed inside, full body shudder when he felt soothing hands rubbed up and down his skin.

Letting out some bated breaths, Will opened his eyelids –ones that he did not realise he had shut close the entire time he let Hannibal be still inside him– and finally started moving. Wetting his lips and hiding the bottom under his teeth as he was filled fully.

Heard Hannibal asked if he was okay, heard himself replying with a small whine of _yeah_ , lost in Hannibal already. Face perched in between Hannibal’s broad shoulder and neck, lips kissing the skin there relentlessly. Being hugged so tight with his love’s arms as he rocked his arse should be illegal for how _euphoric_ it felt. Whimpers and moans and shudders should also be illegal for how easy they came out of his body. And yes, _yes,_ fucking Hannibal like this had always been so _amazing_ , making him delirious the more he ground down, the more he paid no attention but Hannibal’s low moans and growls, Hannibal’s always-sweet smell, Hannibal’s hands all over him, Hannibal’s own gentle movements, Hannibal’s _everything_.

“You’re alright?” Hannibal asked, Will pushed up a little, breath heavy against the King’s face, arse still rocking gently, he didn’t even realise the sweat glistened on both their skin, more than it had ever been, one dripped down onto Hannibal’s forehead.

Coming out of his daze, he laughed a bit at the question, cheeks so hurt from smiling so much, fingers playing with Hannibal’s chest, “I’m good, I’m _very_ good,” that brought out a grin out of the man underneath him.

That daze, however, came back as fast as it went away. Resting his forehead against Hannibal’s, palms and fingers digging onto the pillow beside Hannibal’s head, gentle rocking turned into fervent ones, breaths so heavy he heeded no care for the security outside anymore. Hannibal only smiled at him from under, strong arms went back to wrap around his body.

Like that until Will felt the need for his lungs for air, like that until Hannibal slowed him down, forefinger affectionately wiped off a trail of sweat from his chin. His movements stilled for a moment, kissing the older man ardently, lips tugging up into the kiss as he rubbed back and forth, up and down, seeking friction for his own length between their sweaty bodies.

He moved again after a moment, faster and swift this time, the security outside would surely hear skin slapping from how fast Will went, gasps growing louder and louder that turned into a string of moans, he tried to hide it again by bringing his body down, chest against Hannibal’s, lips kissing and biting his ear. And couldn’t help the needy whine when his movement got too excited, Hannibal slipped out of him.

This time Will pulled his head up again, fixing gaze with the man beneath him as he was speared open again, delicious moan out of his throat before he could even tone it down. Hannibal whispered sweet nothings when he started moving his arse, dark enticing eyes only for him full of nothing but love.

Another thing that should be illegal: Hannibal’s hands stroking up and down the back of his shins. It shouldn’t feel so good and yet it did. Had he got something for shins now? Oh definitely, for it elicited a shuddering breath out of him when Hannibal did it again and again, a smug grin on his face with so many knowledge of Will’s weaknesses.

“Smug bastard, you– _oh_ ,” eyebrows furrowing, that particular whine rose up when Hannibal was out of him the second time that night, he could say he was mad at himself for letting it out again even for the briefest of moment.

The whine did not stop. Hannibal shushed him with a sweet _it’s alright_ , reached down to adjust himself over Will, pushing inside with a sure but tender thrust, and that did it for Will. Hannibal hit somewhere inside where Will couldn’t help but let out an embarrassing mewl, preening when he was being held in place, Hannibal’s left hand on the back of his head, the other seated comfortably on his arse, Hannibal’s hips thrust up with so much sureness it moved his own body along.

 _Thrust, thrust, thrust_ , rhythm set, zero intention to stop.

Stifled loud moans he buried over the King’s mussed up hair, clutching tightly on the sheets so as to not topple over. Hannibal moved as graciously he did anything else, kisses on his shoulders from the man underneath him was all it took for Will to let it all out, no more holding back the sounds he made. Securities outside be damned.

Same air they breathed, Hannibal’s grip on his body tightened, movements erratic and _loud_ , Will pulled his head up hearing the chants of his name grew breathy from the man’s lips.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart,” Hannibal purred out.

“Yeah? Give it to me, baby,” Will rasped, his own brain unhinged and delirious from relentless thrusting.

It took Hannibal only a few more minutes to come undone, with a grounded growl that vibrated through both their bodies, chest heaving hard, spluttering and twitching inside Will with no shame.

Will smiled lightly at his love, kissing him more as he let Hannibal come down from his high, rubbing himself against Hannibal’s firm stomach. Came with a shudder only a minute after, with the King’s fingers around his length and the King’s lips all over his torso.

They rocked gently with each other while waiting for their breaths to calm down again. Will was more than snug seated on top, grazing soft touches over his King’s beautiful skin, kisses here and there, both smiling so widely at each other. A smile that turned into a delicious gasp when Hannibal thrust up one last time, pulling out to let Will clean them both with one of their piece of clothing. Hannibal, a perfectionist of a high level, would need to wash it off himself later, he did not mind that one bit, though.

“Should I be busy more often if I get this at the end of the day?” Hannibal asked, voice thick with accent, raspy as Will liked it most.

The younger man turned to his back, inhaled once, exhaled once, pulled the King flush against his chest next. It was his turn now to hold Hannibal close, rub his tense back with soothing palm, kiss his worries away as much as he could. Hannibal was pliant and relaxed in his hold, breathing warm puffs of air to his naked chest. _This_ man right here was the warmest person Will ever had the chance of knowing.

“I’ll give you this whenever you want, no need for you to be busy,” Will replied, smiling to the ashy-coloured, soft mop of hair. Hannibal hummed in return, snuggling closer.

Silence fell comfortably over them. The security outside made zero noise even though Will knew very well they had heard their King and his guard tangled up together in bed. Eh, nobody would care, anyway. They all had known, all had turned a blind eye since the first time they noticed, not one, not even the staffs, said a thing about them. As long as the nation was well taken care of.

And ah, did not that remind him of something.

“Hannibal.”

“Hm?”

“How would you take care of a nation when you do not take care of yourself first?”

Hannibal stilled, a flutter of eyelashes against sweaty chest, Will was so tempted to look at his hard-thinking face, did not want to let his love go, though, so came up with that particular splitting image in his brain, heard Hannibal let out a dejected sigh not long after.

His answer, low and reluctant, was what made exasperation bubbled up in Will’s body.

“I will take care of myself, after the nation’s taken care of.”

This time he did pull away, infuriately staring at the unbelievable King beside him. What an irksome, _irksome_ King.

“And when will that be, Hannibal? Until the day you’re so old and it’s even hard for you to bring a teacup to your mouth? Huh, when will that be?”

Hannibal looked at him with _that_. Had the audacity to look at him with _that_.

That pair of eyes so full of exhaustion and sorrowful darkness that he lost again to his empathy. The audacity of this man was going to be death of Will someday. With a sigh he traced Hannibal’s pouty lips, rough and worn fingers tried their best to smooth a smile upon the aforementioned pair. It was unfair how easy Hannibal won him over with only _a look_.

Will pulled one of his King's hands close to his mouth, “Impossible man,” he breathed, a kiss to Hannibal’s knuckles, “impossible King,” a kiss to his palm, “my impossible darling,” a kiss to the back of his hand. Hannibal only chuckled. A breath of silence followed while Will busied himself with kisses upon kisses across Hannibal’s body.

“Will you always be by my side then, until that day?”

Stilling, pair of blue focused solely on brown, eyebrows arose at the same time a stupid grin made its way to Will’s face.

“Are you proposing to me, now, Your Majesty?”

The King’s own grin showed itself, nose brushing against his guard’s affectionately, “Mmm, I must plan a grandiloquent proposal for one Sir Graham, in the near future, but I hope he does not reject me. What do you think of that, do you think he would like it?”

Cheeks near damn hurt when he smiled again for the nth time that night, a shy pair of reds appeared, a giggle like that of a schoolgirl he let out as he said, “I think he would like that a lot.”

\---

**Author's Note:**

> man the references I put in this.. honestly I hope some of you catch it lol. have a great day ahead, thank you for reading!


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